


The Sex Curse

by cruisedirector, Dementordelta



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Coming In Pants, Erections, Fame, First Time, M/M, Masturbation, Not Epilogue Compliant, POV Severus Snape, Post-Deathly Hallows, Potions, Search for a Cure, Secret Crush, Secret Snarry Swap 2016, Severus Snape Lives, Sex, Sex Magic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-01
Updated: 2016-12-01
Packaged: 2018-09-03 01:56:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,176
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8691964
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cruisedirector/pseuds/cruisedirector, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dementordelta/pseuds/Dementordelta
Summary: Snape had not expected that one side effect of being brought back from the dead would be a permanent erection.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to T for beta!
> 
> Written for Prompt #39 from Torino10154: "A long extant crush is finally revealed."

Severus Snape had not expected that one side effect of being brought back from the dead -- or at least near-death -- would be a permanent erection. He had always prided himself on his self-control. He had rarely indulged himself with other men, not Death Eaters nor Order of the Phoenix members, though he did get propositions, and never a fellow Hogwarts professor, though the occasional offer had come his way from visiting faculty as well. He certainly had never indulged himself with a student, not even a former student.

So why did he find himself getting hard every time anything reminded him of Harry Potter, which, given the fact that the Chosen One appeared in _The Daily Prophet_ \-- and in paintings and on Ministry decrees -- was all the time? He could rarely go more than an hour without needing to bring himself to climax, lest his ongoing state of priapism should damage his health. It wasn't as if he were unaware of the dangers of an erection lasting four hours, even if those were less lethal than an attack by a venomous snake that also happened to possess a cursed fragment of soul. None of the potions he had developed to cure excess libido had any effect. And this had been going on for months.

Though Snape spent his time in Knockturn Alley now, living and working in a building so disreputable that it was unlikely the bloody Chosen One would ever deign to glance at it, he could not stop obsessing over Harry Potter. It was worse than any dark curse. Therefore, after a briefly palliative wank one afternoon, it was mortifying to step out from his laboratory into the area of his shop where he served customers, only to come face to face with the face that haunted his dreams, and daydreams, and fleeting dirty thoughts.

"How did you know I was coming?" Potter asked, greeting Snape with a nervous smile.

"What?" spluttered Snape.

"You yelled my name before I was even all the way through the door. Do you have some kind of spell that tells you who's coming to the shop?"

Oh, _that_ kind of coming. Snape's relief prevented him from replying with the ferocity that the bloody Chosen One deserved. "What precisely are you doing here, Potter?"

It appeared that Potter had a fever...no, Potter was blushing. "I need a potion," he muttered. "And I can't ask anyone else, because I really can't talk about the, um, circumstances with anyone else."

Snape performed an elaborate eye-roll. "Repeatedly signing autographs lulls you to sleep in the middle of the day?" he speculated. "Or is your arse sore from being kissed by the entire Ministry?"

"It's nothing like that!" objected Potter. "I, um, look. If you knew enough to bring me the sword of Gryffindor, then you must have known about the Horcruxes. And I'm sure you worked out that I was connected to them, but I can't exactly walk into St. Mungo's and explain that."

"I knew about the Horcruxes," agreed Snape. "Don't tell me that you were foolish enough to try on a diadem or sip from a cursed chalice?"

"I was very careful around them. I don't know what happened. Ever since the last bit of Voldemort's soul that was attached to me got destroyed..." Potter took a deep breath. "Dumbledore didn't bother to tell me that one side effect of having a piece of evil soul removed from me would be constant horniness. It isn't just that I think about sex all the time. It's --" 

Potter gestured at a particular region of his anatomy, well-hidden behind a heavy cloak, but Snape had no trouble discerning its state of tumescence. Of course, thought Snape. If being cured of the lethal bite of a snake Horcrux had left him in a constant state of arousal, then having an entire Horcrux-sized fragment of soul removed must have turned Potter into a raging cock monster. 

"Surely you can find any number of willing witches to offer you relief," Snape suggested.

Again, Potter looked very fetching, on the cusp of blushing but trying to control it. “That isn’t the sort of relief that I need,” he said, though his voice seemed to catch a bit. “I need…” He took a step forward, and Snape knew exactly what he needed, because though Snape had just had a wank, he needed it again right then, too. 

“Why should I care what you need?” he snapped, trying to step back, away from Potter, who suddenly looked very interested in the sight of Snape’s robes, or perhaps just the fronts of them. 

“You make potions, don’t you? Disreputable sorts of potions?” asked Potter, licking, very slowly, his top lip as though the sheen of sweat that had broken out on Snape’s had somehow transferred itself there. “It's like I told you. I need a potion,” Potter demanded urgently. 

Despite the need to keep his own robes closed, Snape gave a dismissive gesture. “Do what any number of young men your age do: satisfy yourself.” The idea of that made Snape’s cock even more difficult to control, so he had to promise it a more leisurely wank sooner rather than later.

“What do you think I’ve been doing?” wailed Potter, “Over and over and over, for months now, at all hours of the day and night, even --” His mouth snapped shut as if remembering who was glaring at him.

“Even?” Snape prompted. 

Looking miserable, Potter said, “Even right before I came into your shop.”

"You mean you stood around with your cock in your hand right outside where anyone could see you?" Snape's voice sounded higher and more breathless than he intended. He hoped that Potter would assume he was alarmed rather than about to ejaculate in his trousers at the image that Snape had conjured with the words.

"I have an Invis-- that is, no one could see me," muttered Potter defensively. "The point is, I'm completely desperate. I wouldn't have come to you if I could have thought of anyone else who could help me, but it's not like I'm about to tell Slughorn about this, even though he knows about the Horcruxes, too."

Slughorn, thought Snape, would probably offer to suck Potter's cock every hour just to keep the Chosen One coming to Slug Club soirees. "Don't say anything to that overrated buffoon," he agreed. The idea of Potter going to Slughorn or indeed anyone else about his problem made Snape's erection wilt somewhat, which should have been a relief, but only made Snape feel more frustrated. "I am forced to admit that I am the only potion maker who can safely help you."

"You are?" Potter looked so grateful that it wouldn't have surprised Snape if the young man dropped to his knees right then and gave Snape a...no, that was not a line of thought Snape wished to pursue, at least not right this moment, as his cock instantly returned to its previous state of rock hardness. "I'd pay you anything, any way you want. I have money and I'd do adverts for your shop, or get you rare ingredients, or if you trusted me I'd help you make potions..."

Snape wondered whether the semen of the Chosen One would be particularly powerful in fertility and virility potions. He allowed himself a brief fantasy about installing a chair surrounded by mirrors and requiring Potter to sit and wank all day for him, but he had no intention of sharing that much of Potter with the unwashed masses. "The ingredients for such a potion are neither rare nor expensive," Snape muttered, thinking while he talked. "They are, however, extremely personal to the wizard seeking the potion. And because of the power and intensity of the curse in question, there is no guarantee that such a potion would effect a cure..."

"If it would give me a few hours of relief at a time, that would be plenty," cut in Potter. "Everyone at the Ministry thinks I have stomach trouble since I have to go to the loo all the time. It's not like I can explain that I need a wank. I'll never finish Auror training at this rate! And what am I supposed to do if I get called in to detain a dark wizard -- fight a duel using my cock instead of my wand?"

Though Snape could not hold back the groan that escaped his lips, he thought he did well making it sound as if the terrible wand joke and not his own arousal had caused it. "I'm going to need some samples," he announced, trying not to sound breathless at the prospect.

“Samples?” Potter, instead of looking embarrassed, looked eager to pursue Snape’s idea of research.. “What sort of samples?” 

Clearing his throat, Snape picked up a vial, waggling it back and forth. “The sort of samples you’ve probably been making in the loo.”

“And right outside your shop,” Potter pointed out unhelpfully. He held his hand out for the vial. “How much do you need?” His other hand was reaching for his trousers.

Snape’s mouth went dry, his fingers brushing Potter’s as the vial changed hands. “Are you daft? You can’t do that right here.”

“I’ll bet I can,” replied Potter, “Probably as many vials as you need.”

Shaking his head, Snape looked around as though there might be a queue of customers clamoring for disreputable potions. As usual, the shop was empty, save for himself and Potter. “This isn’t a test of whether you can, but whether you should. I can’t have the bloody Chosen One whipping out his willy and having a deeply satisfying wank right here on my premises.” 

Snape blinked, thinking maybe he’d lost track of his point, but Potter somehow managed to discern his meaning. Potter’s hand got the top button and a bit of the zipper tugged down before he stopped himself. “Right, let me get the cl-- er, do a spell and turn invisible.” Snape was about to spread his robes to cover Potter if the jeans went any lower when the hand closest to Potter's fly lifted and ran through his hair. “Look, I’ve got a stiffie that would bend a Dementor’s heart. Do you need a sample or don’t you?” 

"I've already told you that I do," muttered Snape, though it came out more as a predatory growl. "And a Dementor doesn't have a heart."

"Then let's just say that if a Dementor tried to suck something out of me, it wouldn't be my soul that came first." Before Snape could moan, or rather before Snape could shout an objection, Potter's trousers dropped to the floor. He was wearing underpants -- which Snape no longer did, since they just got in the way when he needed a quick and urgent tug, and they weren't particularly more helpful in hiding his perpetual arousal than his heavy robes -- but the head of Potter's surprising-for-his-height, rather thick and clearly erect cock was pushing up above the waistband. "Um, do you want me invisible?"

"I want you just like that," Snape replied before he could stop himself. "That is, it might be useful if you let me observe. For clinical purposes. To discern whether there are any obvious physical manifestations of the curse whose effects have made you..."

He was unable to finish the sentence, for Potter had let out a great moan of relief, shoved his pants halfway to his knees, and taken his cock in the hand not holding the vial. "I think there are," Potter grunted as his hand began to move. "For one thing, I know you'll laugh that I measured it but I swear it's bigger than it used to be."

Snape's own cock was threatening to rip through his trousers, pop out of his robes, and demonstrate that it, too, had reaped one single benefit from Snape's contact with a Horcrux. He attempted a laugh but only managed a strangled groan. At least he could manage the wandless spell to lock his shop's door without having to glance away.

Despite his face being flushed and sweaty, Potter managed a cheeky grin. "You look awfully interested."

"It's my job to be interested..." Snape started to say before he realized that his hand had moved to his own cock and was rubbing through his robes, trying to give him some relief.

“Look, I don’t mind, it only makes it better,” Potter said, eyes riveted on the fronts of Snape’s robes. “I mean worse--” He groaned, squeezing the fleshy head of his prick. “I don’t know what I mean except that I don’t mind you watching, I don’t mind if you get excited watching, there probably isn’t a way I haven’t already --” He sucked in a breath, hand finding a satisfying -- or so it appeared to Snape -- rhythm. 

Trying to look like there was more to this than just watching Potter get himself off right in the middle of the shop, Snape said, “You have fantasies while indulging in, er, self-gratification?”

Potter grunted. “Doesn’t everyone?” His hand was moving faster. 

“I mean, do you need them to become --” He licked his lips, thinking that sliding his hand inside his robes wouldn’t hurt since Potter was so obviously distracted. 

“Hard? Erect?” Potter let out a laugh that was already veering toward a groan. “No I bloody don’t, it just comes -- you’ll pardon the expression -- over me with or without a fantasy, and nothing will make it stop or go down except wanking!”

Shaking his head, keeping his hand inside his robes, Snape circled Potter slowly, ostensibly to observe him as he'd said he was going to do, but actually to brand this image into his brain from every angle. “Not just wanking, surely. If you were, say, in bed with someone, and the urge came upon you --”

Potter’s eyes were closed, focused on pleasure, as if listening to Snape’s voice was directly linked to his cock. “That would mean I’d have to be in bed with someone and I haven’t been.”

“I’m sure it’s perfectly safe,” pointed out Snape, taking a step quite close to Potter, breathing in the cleanish scent of his arousal. “Whatever is affecting you shouldn’t be contagious. Past childhood, magical ailments rarely are.”

One eye opened. “I haven’t been because I haven’t been with anyone, ever,” Potter said, though the last word was strangled as an orgasm convulsed his body. White cream from his cock erupted over his fingers and spattered the floor, almost completely missing the vial. And though there were many things Snape wanted to say, or shout, or ask, or scoff in disbelief, or snort in astonishment, all he managed to do was to grunt loudly, bucking into his fingers as his own cock spurted all over the inside of his robes. Though no climax ever satisfied Snape for long, this one was quite pleasurable, curling his toes and sending waves of release throughout his body.

Potter was flushed, panting, looking a bit sheepish, but embarrassment didn't disguise his obvious curiosity. "Did you just --?" he gasped. 

In principle, Snape could have performed a spell to clean himself up immediately, but Potter was gazing into his eyes and the connection that Snape had once forged using Legilimency, which Potter had never properly learned to block, made the room swim. Suddenly he was seeing himself throw back his head and ejaculate from Potter's point of view, which would have been mortifying were it not for the fact that Snape could feel how much Potter had enjoyed it, so much that Potter was already imagining being alone in what Snape assumed to be his room at Grimmauld Place for a long, leisurely wank during which he could relive the experience more slowly. Though it had shrunk somewhat, recovering, Snape's cock gave a feeble twitch at the image. 

Quickly, before Potter probed Snape's thoughts and discovered that his former professor had been imagining the Chosen One get himself off in a wide variety of positions and locales, Snape summoned his skills as a Legilimens. "Don't lie to me," he hissed. "You expect me to believe that you've never put that prick inside one of your numerous girlfriends?"

Potter was still breathless, but he managed a laugh. "For someone who spent a lot of time poking around in my brain, you're kind of slow to get the point. I spent more time thinking about Draco Fucking Malfoy than any witch. I barely even kissed my girlfriends."

Snape was about to place a long-distance hex on Draco Fucking Malfoy when he became distracted by the larger implications of what Potter had said. "Are you telling me that you're --" He paused to consider his choice of words. " -- not entirely heterosexual?"

"I'm as queer as a flying mermaid," replied Potter. 

"And Malfoy didn't offer you his admittedly well-toned arse as a reward for saving his family?" grumbled Snape.

Potter made a face. "As if I'd want my first time to be with that vile spoiled ferret!"

Snape did not do a particularly good job of hiding his delight at this reaction. "For whom were you saving yourself, then?" he demanded.

For the first time since entering Snape’s shop, Potter looked a bit uncomfortable. “Just because I haven’t been with anyone doesn’t mean I’m saving myself. I just--” He ran a distracted hand through his hair before making a face, realizing what that hand had just been doing. “I don’t want it to be because I’m cursed.”

“You seem very certain that this affliction is a curse,” Snape said, grateful for the moment that his prick was behaving, since the sticky mess in his robes did not particularly encourage desire.

“What else could it be?” wailed Potter, striking his fist against his side in obvious frustration. “I’ve had some experience with being cursed and I think I should know.” He took several steps, pacing out his thoughts. “It started right away and nothing makes it stop for long.” He paced again, then stopped and looked at Snape. “Though being here seems to help.”

A quiver went through Snape. “Are you trying to tell me that I’m so hideous that you don’t become aroused around me and can control yourself?” His own cock gave a twitch at that but it was not one of desire. 

Potter frowned, looking down at himself as if making sure all his parts were in working order. “No,” he said slowly, “it’s more than that, it’s more like --” He did more self-assessment, still pacing a bit, reaching out and grabbing Snape’s arm through his sleeve. “Don’t you feel it?”

“Feel what?” Snape said, tempted to shake Potter’s hand off, but being this close to an attractive male who still smelled of sex was too irresistible to disregard. Instead of answering, Potter just held onto him, and slowly Snape did feel it. The horniness hadn’t gone away, and it still felt uncontrollable, but the focus of it had narrowed. He nodded.

Something glinted in Potter’s eyes. “I knew I was right to come here.” He grinned. “And to come here.”

Potter was only seeking relief from uncontrollable urges, Snape reminded himself. Crossly, he observed, "You didn't even get most of the sample into the vial. I can't work on a treatment from this."

"Then I'll have to have another go." The expression on Potter's face looked like a mockery of innocence. "Maybe you should hold the vial so I don't miss. Or wait, I know...you could hold my cock."

As if Snape's own cock needed any urging, it perked up, even though the sticky mess in his robes now felt clammy on his skin. "If you don't wish to engage in sexual contact because of a curse..." he began.

"I didn't want to engage in sexual contact with someone I didn't know very well, especially if I didn't know whether I could trust them." Potter gazed speculatively not at Snape's face but at the bulge growing beneath his robes. "But you know me better than probably anyone, and you showed me your memories."

"Selective memories." Snape sucked in a breath. "I do not know you better than probably anyone. You tried to hide yours from me."

"Because I thought you'd use them against me, especially when you found out I liked men." Potter's hand was wandering, stroking down Snape's chest, apparently headed for his groin. "Looks like I'm not the only one, though." The hand reached its destination, cupping Snape through his robes.

Snape muttered something about flying mermaids because when Potter touched him like that he could barely remember any words, or how to make them or indeed why he should. Eventually his brain, seeing the benefits of engaging Potter’s brain and therefore the rest of him, finally jump-started to life. Snape’s erection had practically molded itself to Potter’s hand. He had never touched a student this way, or former student, or anyone he really wanted, but Potter’s hand had just given him permission, and, if there was any doubt, Potter was angling himself to press closer. 

“Maybe you have someplace more comfortable to, um, collect samples?” Potter said, though he looked like if Snape told him the someplace more comfortable was on the floor or even on top of a stone altar, he might not demur. 

“Come with me,” Snape said, though he spared harsh inner dialog for his choice of outer dialog and reluctantly drew back from Potter’s exploration of the bulge in his robes, leading him instead into the back room that served as living quarters. “It probably isn’t what you’re used to --” he began, but his words again were cut off by something Potter did, only this time Potter flung himself against Snape and kissed him. “Mmmph,” he said, letting Potter draw it out. He hadn’t been joking when he said he hadn’t kissed many girls, and probably even fewer of his own gender.

“I know that didn’t have anything to do with collecting samples but I just really wanted to do it and I wasn’t sure you would let me do it later,” said Potter as if that explained anything.

“Later?” 

Potter looked at the vial still in Snape’s hand. “You know, when I’m filling that vial.” He looked very earnest, and very kissed. “You really think you can help me?”

Snape wasn’t going to let a little thing like not being able to help him get in the way of convincing Potter that he could help him. “Absolutely,” he said, telling himself that amongst all the lies he’d told in the course of his life, this was surely the smallest one. Perhaps, he reflected, inspiration would strike. 

“Onto the bed,” he ordered, adjusting his own robes and following Potter, who had practically flung himself onto Snape’s mattress. 

Rolling back and forth several times, Potter finally settled onto his back. “Should I have my clothes off?”

"Yes. I need to examine you for other symptoms." This was yet another lie, but since Potter was already shucking the rest of his clothes, Snape inferred that he did not object to being naked. 

Potter paused, looking him up and down. "What about you?"

Now Snape hesitated. Though Potter did not appear to be going anywhere, he was sure to be repelled by Snape's scars. "I do not have your physique," he snapped.

Grinning, Potter reached for his buttons. "Thanks for noticing, but short and kind of skinny isn't really my thing."

"I'm much older than you."

"Young isn't really my thing either." Potter had worked Snape's collar open far enough to see how badly scarred Snape's neck was all the way down to his collarbone, but Potter didn't appear to be revolted. In fact, he was leaning in, licking along Snape's throat all the way up to his earlobe, which Potter sucked with sufficient enthusiasm to make Snape imagine the many uses to which that mouth could be put besides talking too much. Which Potter was doing once again. "Do you think it would help if I, um, lost my virginity? I mean, is it possible I'm only so horny because I had some evil in me, and now it's gone, and I need something else in me to take its place?"

Snape was trying very hard not to imagine Potter on all fours on this very bed, with Snape's cock moving in and out of his arse while beneath him Snape held the vial to catch the ejaculate as Potter wanked himself. Although intellectually Snape knew that it would not make the least bit of difference in treating Potter's tumescence, his own cock was making it clear its belief that this was the best idea anyone had ever had. "I suppose you believe that I am sufficiently wicked to replace a fragment of evil soul," he muttered to Potter.

"Actually I don't think you're all that wicked, but I still think it might be worth trying," said Potter breathlessly, tugging down Snape's sticky pants. "I told you, I'll do anything!" Air was wafting over areas of Snape’s body that were not usually uncovered at this time of day as Potter sat back, regarding the bits and bobs of Snape’s that he’d uncovered.

Here it comes, Snape thought, the part where Potter would announce that this was all some horrid mistake, or worse, that it was all a trick. Even that thought could not wither Snape’s erection, but some unknown emotion rattled around inside the spot he reserved for such concerns.

“What in Merlin's name were you worried about?” Potter said, pushing the glasses back on his nose. “You look really good.”

Snape’s mouth was open to toss Potter out on his beguiling little arse, right after he’d buggered it, but his jaw snapped shut. “What did you say?” Even rearranging the words didn’t make what it sounded like Potter said sound like anything bad. 

“You should be naked a lot more. You look good,” Potter repeated, reaching for him.

“And just how many naked men have you seen naked?” Snape shot back, though he was letting himself be mauled by Potter. Fortunately Snape had a large bed, a habit he’d acquired in his teaching days when the sleeping quarters were provided by the school. He was able to stretch out beside Potter, acutely aware that the young man was still looking him over as though he was better than any banquet ever put on the long tables at Hogwarts. 

“Ever heard of porn?” Potter asked, grinning. “Even wizards can get ahold of it. And I got ahold of it a lot. You’re thin --”

“Skinny,” Snape corrected automatically, though Potter ignored the correction.

“Lots of sexy arm muscles,” Harry, er, Potter went on, as though Snape hadn’t spoken. He squeezed one of Snape’s forearms between two fingers. “Must be all that chopping.”

That at least was true enough that Snape stopped trying to disabuse Potter of any notions of attractiveness Snape may or may not have possessed, or perhaps he stopped because Potter was admiring his cock in a manner of which both Snape and his cock approved. 

“So do you do it hard and fast or hard and slow? And should I be up on my hands and knees?” Potter asked, with no sense of changing the subject, though perhaps it wasn’t that much of a change, as Snape’s earlier vision of Potter willingly being penetrated now had him begging for more. 

"Since this is your first time, perhaps we should endeavor not to rush things," Snape told him. Any disappointment his cock registered at learning that it would not be fucking Potter into the mattress as feverishly as possible was balanced by his cock's glee that it would be the first to plunge itself inside Potter's delightfully curved arse. "You may be more comfortable on your hands and knees."

"Next time I want to see your face," Potter said as he shifted around, putting his bum in the air and wagging it in a manner that Snape knew would bring him off many, many times during future emergency wanking sessions. For now, he sternly reminded his cock that he had just promised not to rush, and moreover that he had already had one orgasm within the past hour. Plus Potter had said _next time_ , which suggested that he did not expect to be cured from a single act of intercourse.

Snape kept several varieties of potion in the drawer beside his bed -- one that had a slight numbing effect for when he wanted a long, slow wank, one that tingled for when he wanted to toss one off quickly, and one reserved for the unlikely possibility that he might someday have a partner, though it had been languishing in the drawer for longer than Snape cared to recall. Retrieving it, he sniffed it, concluding that the charm to preserve it had maintained it well enough. He spilled some over his fingers while Potter craned his neck to watch.

"Can't you just do a spell?" Potter asked. "That's what I usually do when I'm putting anything in there."

One of Snape's fingers traced a circle around Potter's arsehole. "Do you often put things in?" he demanded.

Potter looked very fetching when he blushed, especially while he was on all fours with his arse thrusting back at Snape. "I tried a bunch of things to see if they'd make me less horny all the time," he admitted. "I started with the tip of my wand -- I thought maybe if I did a deflation spell from the inside instead of just aiming it at my cock, it might work better. All it did was make me want something thicker in my arse..."

"A wand could have been dangerous," Snape scolded. "You could have perforated your..."

"...so I tried my fingers, but that didn't make me less horny and actually I spent even more time wanking," admitted Potter, talking right over Snape. Since it sounded as though Potter had sufficient experience with penetration not to scream, Snape pressed a finger inside him and was indeed rewarded with a moan of approval. "Oh fuck. More, please! Then I ordered a dildo out of one of those Muggle magazines, and I did a spell to make it vibrate, but I was sure your cock would feel better..."

Obviously being fingered made Potter babble, since he certainly did not mean that he had imagined Snape's cock in his arse before desperation had brought him to Snape's shop that very day. "You never tried leaving it in until you were too sore to continue?" Snape inquired. He had tried that himself, believing that discomfort might finally alleviate his horniness, but a sore arse had in no way diminished his cock's ability to get hard and stay hard more often than Snape previously would have believed. 

"I did, I walked around all day with it and once I even played Quidditch with it, but all that did was make me come in my pants!" wailed Potter, pushing back on Snape's slick finger with such eagerness that Snape added another. Potter's entrance was very tight, but it opened readily when prodded and Potter showed no signs of discomfort, pressing down to take Snape in deeper. Snape was more than happy to oblige, crooking his fingers to rub the firm spot that he knew would... "Fuck! Oh fuck do that again!"

“Do you do this to yourself?” Snape asked, obliging the request, frankly, because he liked the way Potter begged. 

“Tried,” Potter groaned out, as a shudder went through him. His face dove into the pillow and he held onto the sheets as though a Dementor was chasing him during Quidditch practice. 

Sliding his finger back out slowly, Snape sharpened his voice. “Tell me how you tried,” he commanded. He wasn’t quite withholding the pleasures of Potter’s body, just giving the young man a moment to recover. 

Potter lifted his head and his eyes had a satisfyingly dreamy expression in them, as though looking at Snape was just as pleasurable as what Snape was doing in his arse. He unclenched one hand from the sheets and wiggled his fingers. “You know, like you’re doing, only I can’t get the angle right.” He looked at Snape plaintively. “You were getting the angle really really right.” His bum swayed in undisguised invitation. 

One of Snape’s fingers traced the curve of Potter’s arse, something of which his cock showed its approval with renewed throbbing. “Surely you thought of asking someone else to help you out with the, er, angle,” he said, uncertain what he was trying to get Potter to confess when he had the boy begging for a thorough rogering with the promise of more to come. So to speak. 

Somehow Potter had gotten his hand backward, reaching for his own cock. With a growl, Snape batted it away. “Not until I’m balls deep inside you. To collect the specimen.”

Potter’s whimper was just as satisfying as his wiggling. “Wanted it to be you. I have for a long time.”

“I believe you are sufficiently prepared for penetration,” decreed Snape, spilling out more of the potion onto his fingers. 

“Has anyone ever told you it’s really sexy the way you say 'penetration'?” Potter asked, obviously recovering a bit of presence of mind now that Snape wasn’t massaging his prostate. 

Snorting, Snape said, “In your state you’d think it was sexy if I said 'Quaffle'.” 

A rather undignified sound, almost like a giggle, sounded from the vicinity of the pillow. “Now that you mention it, it is pretty sexy when you get ready to give me your Quaffle.”

"No more Quidditch jokes in bed," ordered Snape. It wasn't that he objected to Quidditch so much as that thinking about Quidditch scores had been his youthful means of trying to distract himself when he got an erection, so he'd been trying that again a lot recently, but it usually ended with him having an orgasm anyway while reciting Harpies' statistics. 

Potter's arse thrust back in his direction. "Fine -- just give me your cock!"

As much as Snape would have liked to listen to Potter beg some more -- in fact, he could think of nothing he'd prefer to spend the day doing -- Snape's cock had indeed had enough of waiting, and he didn't want to humiliate himself by ejaculating prematurely. Again. "Tell me if it's too fast," he said, lining himself up and pressing the head of his cock against Potter's well-stretched arsehole before pushing in.

The wail that greeted his ears almost made Snape pull right back out, fearful that he'd injured something, until he started to make sense of the words Potter was shrieking. "Oh fuck! So good! Please give me more!"

Whether Potter was imitating a cheap Muggle porno or whether these were the dearest sentiments of his heart, Snape could not resist complying. Potter's arse was magnificently tight and hot, just as perfect as Snape would have imagined if -- very well, when -- Snape had allowed himself to indulge in fantasies about Potter's arse. It was so perfect that Snape doubted this particular act of sodomy could last as long as he wished, though he was trying hard -- that was to say, with concerted effort -- to make Potter's first time last long enough to be memorable. "Now, give me that vial," he managed to grate out.

"Oh fuck, not yet, want more, please!" This time Potter batted Snape's hand away from his cock. "I'll come in five seconds if you do that!"

"Then you're in charge of collecting the sample," Snape told him, gripping Potter's hips. "Try to get as much into the vial as possible." It did not in fact matter, since Snape did not have any realistic expectation of being able to treat Potter's condition regardless of the specimen size, but he did intend to pretend to investigate for as long as Potter continued to suggest that they do research that involved long, steady strokes in and out...

Whatever distraction might have benefited Snape from thinking about samples and potions instead of the tight clenching arse around his cock, Harry Potter's tight clenching arse around his cock, vanished with Potter's next words. "Yes, sir!"

Leaning far back enough to be able to see, indeed to brand the image on his brain, of his cock sliding in and out of Potter’s arse, Snape allowed himself a few strokes before shifting the angle. Potter cried out with immediate profanity-laced satisfaction.

“Yes, fuck, more!” he demanded, though Snape decided at once that he liked the bossy tone in his voice. “Right there!”

“Make sure you have the vial,” Snape growled, being proven right that the gravelly tone of his voice made Potter moan and clench around him. He felt Potter fumbling for the vial, felt the angles shifting again as Potter leaned more heavily into the pillows. That was Snape’s cue to wrap fingers around Potter’s gratifyingly hard cock. 

“Won’t last long if you touch me,” panted out Potter to the rhythm of Snape’s increasingly frantic thrusts. “You may have to bugger me again and again!”

Snape found it difficult to think with any organ save the one buried to the hilt in Potter’s arse, but he managed to say, “We can do this the other way round.”

Some sort of noise came from the vicinity of the pillow, a cry that was half moan and half wail and it sent a shudder through Snape’s body. “We can’t collect a sample if we do it that way, can we?” 

Thinking quickly, Snape said, “You may need to, er, take the edge off in between specimen collections.” Since there would be precious little research, it wouldn’t matter how much semen they collected and Snape wanted a go at being on the bottom. The idea of being the first arse that Potter sank his cock into was as enticing as any mental image Snape had conjured up thus far, and his fantasies, he had to admit, had been truly expansive. 

“You’d -- oh fuck -- let me?” said Potter, each syllable barely more than a grunt, carried to Snape’s ears on a groan of pleasure. 

"I just told you I would," Snape pointed out, each of his own syllables punctuated with his thrusts. "I would let you put this cock in my arse --" He gave Potter's prick a twisting tug as if there could possibly be any doubt which one he meant. "And I would get on all fours for you, or on my back for you, and you could bugger me into the mattress..."

He would have described the buggery in more detail, but Potter let out a mindless wail of pleasure and convulsed, his arse clenching around Snape's cock as his balls emptied themselves in hard spurts that Snape could feel leaking over his fingers, undoubtedly spattering the bed as much as they shot into the vial. Well, no matter -- that meant he wouldn't need to conjure any excuses for Potter to provide yet another sample, and another after that. "Fuck!" cried Potter. "Oh yes want to fuck you!"

That declaration as much as Potter's tight arse pushed Snape over the edge. With a final savage thrust and a shout of "Harry!", he came so hard that he nearly blacked out, gasping for breath and collapsing over Potter's prone form. 

"I don't think you've ever called me by name before," panted Potter while Snape tried to recover his wits, not to mention the vial which was slippery with semen. "I mean, my full name, sure, especially when I was in trouble, but not just Harry. Except right before I came into your shop. You couldn't somehow see me wanking under my cloak, could you? Or --" Snape felt Potter twist beneath him, trying to look at him, and did his best to keep Potter pinned down, but Potter was still in reasonable shape for playing Quidditch and his muscles rippled enticingly as his upper body managed to turn without dislodging Snape's cock from his arse. "-- were you maybe wanking too?"

"Don't be ridiculous," muttered Snape, hoping that his blush would be taken as a post-coital indication of his exertion and not as embarrassment. "I had no idea that you were out there."

"But you did yell my name. You did mean me, didn't you?" Before Snape could concoct a story about how he hadn't said Harry, he'd said hairy, as in hairy caterpillars, which Potter should have known were crucial for Shrinking Solutions if he'd been paying attention and maybe Snape could have pretended to be upset that he was missing that ingredient except it would be perfectly obvious if Potter searched his lab that he hadn't been making a Shrinking Solution and Snape needed a better story, Potter scrunched up his face and said, "You have had a lot of orgasms since I got here. Do you suppose we're somehow connected?"

Automatically, Snape’s mouth opened to tell Potter how ridiculous he was being, but just as automatically, his brain kicked in with the absurd notion that Potter might not be as daft as he’d thought. “You may not be as daft as I thought,” Snape admitted aloud. 

Potter, who had clearly been expecting the rebuke that was clearly written on the parts of Snape’s face that were not his mouth, brightened and expounded on his theory. “This all started for me when the bit of soul --” He rubbed the scar on his forehead, leaving his sentence unfinished. “For you?”

Snape was sated enough to be able to think rationally, which is probably why he was entertaining theories from Potter. “Approximately the same time, though perhaps not as severely until my injuries healed.” He held up a hand before Potter expressed unnecessary sentiments. “You and I were both affected by the only two living receptacles of the late unlamented Dark Lord’s soul.” He did a quick mental check to make sure of his facts before he spoke. “And for the first time since, I don’t feel --”

“You cured me!” Potter said. “I’m not horny!” He pulled one of the pillows over his knees. “I mean not right this moment. And trust me, I’m always horny.”

Wrinkling his nose, Snape demanded, “Are you implying that you have lost interest in sex because you had sex with me?” All his lovely visions of buggering Potter in a variety of increasingly wanton positions poofed like the end result of a shrinking potion. He let the vial slip from his fingers and spill its contents onto the sheet.

Potter looked horrified, though he didn't appear to notice that Snape had dropped the sample. “Are you bonkers? I didn’t say I didn’t like having sex with you.” He leered at Snape, tossing the pillow aside and leaning in across Snape’s knees. “I liked it. A lot. I’m just saying that sex isn’t the only thing I can think about.” His knees came around either side of Snape’s legs and he wiggled closer. “If we’re connected, then maybe we can keep making each other feel better.”

“We have no proof that we’re connected,” grumbled Snape.

“No proof except that we both feel better. You do still feel better, don’t you?” Reluctantly Snape nodded. Potter’s hips settled against his and he leaned in to kiss Snape’s neck as though that were a thing they always did when discussing being victims of a sex curse. “I feel better too, a lot better. I mean, I know I’m thinking about sex right now, but not in the same way as being unable _not_ to think about sex, if you see what I mean.” 

As usual, what passed for logic in Potter’s brain was nearly beyond fathoming. He wasn’t certain why Potter was still kissing him. “Why are you still kissing me?” he demanded. "You just said you weren't horny." Frowning, Snape tried to think around whatever Potter's mouth was doing as it moved lower, licking his collarbone. He tried to remember what they had been discussing. "And that sex wasn't the only thing you could think about."

"I said it didn't have to be the only thing I could think about. And I meant I wasn't so horny that I couldn't concentrate on other things too." Potter's fingers slid around Snape's waist as though that counted as _other things_. "I feel like I don't have to wank right this instant."

"You are making absolutely no sense..." began Snape, but Potter's mouth lifted to kiss his again, and by the time it was finished with its very thorough exploration, he no longer remembered what he had intended to say. 

"You're kissing me back," marveled Potter. Snape rolled his eyes. "Is that because of the sex curse, or is that for me?"

"You aren't looking at me like you think I'm a greasy git," Snape pointed out, sounding rather breathless to his own ears. "Is _that_ because of the sex curse?"

Potter's hand was doing something on Snape's back that felt good, not in a sexual way but merely involving fingertips. "I don't think you're a greasy git," he finally replied. "That's what I was trying to say. I wanted to do this with _you_ , not anyone else, and that isn't just because of any curse." He gave an enticing wiggle. "Were you serious when you said we could try making love the other way round?"

Sputtering, Snape nearly replied that he was quite certain he had not used that particular phrase to describe their previous act of lovemaking, then he realized he was making nearly as little sense, even to himself, as Potter was making. "Are you saying you want to fuck me?" he asked Potter, to be certain that he was understanding the previous question correctly.

"Oh, fuck, yes," Potter replied with a satisfying groan. "I think if we weren't curing each other, I would have come just from you asking me that."

"I'm not sure how that's proof we're curing each other," retorted Snape, though he was already shifting, lying back on the bed. In his very limited experience of sex, he had always preferred to be on top, but his cock, though still recovering -- and this was the first time in months it had needed so long to recover -- responded gleefully to the idea of Snape's arse being the very first that Potter would enter. "Perhaps we should examine a sample of my semen as well as yours."

Only then did Potter appear to notice that Snape had dropped the vial. "Looks like you're going to have to wank me properly if you want to examine that," he said, sounding entirely satisfied with this discovery. "We might have to make each other come all night."

“I do have some limits,” Snape said, at once aghast at the notion that Potter expected to keep this up -- literally -- all night and pleased that he wanted to. He was contemplating the potions he might have on hand that would enable him to keep going as long as Potter could. Potter, however, was shaking his head. 

“Relax,” he admonished. “I felt you tense right up.” He rubbed his face over a spot on Snape’s belly that had probably never been the target of that much erotic focus under any circumstances. “All right, maybe not all night, but you aren’t going to throw me out in the morning, are you?”

Even though Snape could not remember actually asking Potter to stay, the idea of having Potter in his bed when he woke up was both terrifying and exhilarating. “How do you even know you'll want to stay?” he demanded. “What if I snore or grind my teeth or try to rub off on you in the middle of the night?”

Potter’s expression had gone from amused to intrigued, though mostly it just looked hopeful. “I bet sucking you off whenever you do any of those things will keep us both willing to put up with just about anything.” His voice sounded thick, however. "I'm actually sleepy. It's been ages since I could get any decent sleep without having to wake up and wank." 

"It's been the same for me," admitted Snape, though he hadn't intended to admit any such thing to Potter. A strange feeling was welling up, making his mouth open and his eyes scrunch shut...he was yawning. He'd forgotten how it felt to grow drowsy without an insistent erection demanding his attention.

"See? We're definitely curing each other." Potter burrowed against Snape's chest in a way that Snape would almost have described as snuggling, if Potter were not... "This all worked out perfectly."

Though his mind was rapidly sinking toward sleep, Snape tried to focus. "We don't know that we won't need to fuck like weasels for weeks. Even months."

"That's what I meant by 'perfectly'," chuckled Potter drowsily. "I really couldn't have planned this better."

Again Potter was making very little sense. Struggling against his exhausted brain, Snape tried to think. "Harry. Did you just say you _planned_..."

But Potter was already asleep, with a dreamy smile on his face.

**Author's Note:**

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